


Ash

by Fancy Lads Snacks (Filthy_Bunny)



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Painplay, Scarification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Fancy%20Lads%20Snacks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fic inspired by a Fallout kinkmeme prompt - 'human ashtray'. Yet another kink I never knew I had until the kinkmeme showed me the way. <3</p>
<p>(Written as a standalone but with the 'Binary' series in mind.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ash

Arcade sits in the chair above him, his shirt unbuttoned halfway and his sleeves rolled to the elbow. He lights a cigarette and watches Six with dark mischief playing in his eyes. He’s a little bit drunk.

Six is on his knees, of course. Naked. Tied. Waiting. Always waiting.

There’s a quarter inch of ash on the end of the cigarette. The ashtray is over on the nightstand, well out of reach. Arcade taps the end of his cigarette gently with his thumb. Ash falls whisper-soft onto Six’s skin. It leaves a silver streak on his chest, tumbles over his hip onto the carpet.

Arcade parts his lips and exhales. Six sucks his smoke in like a kiss. When Arcade taps his cigarette again, Six glances down. There’s ash on the tip of his cock. He’s not sure if Arcade is trying to needle or humiliate him, but if so, it’s backfired. The sight makes his balls draw up tight.

His arousal isn’t lost on Arcade. He takes another drag, then holds the cigarette vertically in front of his eyes, looking from the glowing tip to Six, and blows out smoke through a wicked smile. The burning end reflects in his glasses. Six pictures it being pressed against him, singeing hair and blistering skin.

“Do it.” His voice is cracked and desperate.

Arcade had only meant to tease him. “I’m not interested in scarring you,” he says. His voice is smooth, but there is a hint of warning. “That’s not how I play.”

It’s true. In all the time they have been doing this, Arcade has left countless marks on Six’s flesh. With teeth, with a belt, with the flat of his hand. The marks he leaves are exquisite, but they always fade.

“I have plenty of scars,” Six says. “How about giving me one I actually want?”

Arcade narrows his eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me for?”

Six swallows and stares right back at him. “Something permanent,” he says.

Arcade watches him. Maybe on another night he would make a different decision. But the whisky roughs his edges. Makes his possessiveness blaze more quickly. He holds the tip so close Six can feel its heat. If he moves toward it, it will burn him. But he doesn’t. Unless Arcade makes the mark, it is meaningless.

Arcade moves the cigarette lower, tracing an imaginary line down the centre of Six’s chest. “Here?” he says softly, pausing over his sternum. “Or here?” Over his belly now.

Six stays silent, letting him choose.

“Here, perhaps?” The cigarette hovers over his chest, to the left, three inches above his nipple.

Six’s heart pounds beneath it. The tiniest of breaths escapes him.  _Please_ .

Arcade puts the filter back to his lips and draws deeply on it. Six watches the tip glow fiercely bright, just inches from his face. He keeps his eyes on Arcade’s and holds his gaze as his lover’s hand lowers. He holds his gaze even as he hisses through the overwhelming sting and the burn. He holds his gaze as his eyes water and his hands strain against the rope on his wrists and his cock throbs, harder than he can bear.

And now Arcade’s other hand is on his dick, smearing pre-come through the ash, gripping and squeezing him. Six comes with smoke on his tongue and the pain still singing on his chest, where Arcade’s kiss is planted over his heart.

 


End file.
